


when you sleep, ill be scared

by aqakita



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-29
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2019-04-29 15:17:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14475474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aqakita/pseuds/aqakita
Summary: Courtney makes the mistake of having a drunk hookup with Bianca after catching feelings





	when you sleep, ill be scared

A tryst like this was a terrible idea. That was drilled into Courtney’s head, and yet here she was, in the aftermath, with her head heavy on Bianca’s chest. The hotel window curtains were still open, and in the night glowed the city on the horizon. Rain beat down against the pane, morphing the glimmer of lights of distant houses into an obscure, indiscernible faded blob. If it wasn’t so horrible out, maybe she would have left this bed.

But she knew that wasn’t the case. The arm tossed loosely around her shoulders was what made her stay - or rather, the illusion it created. Of course, Courtney’d had one night stands before. She’d had friend hookups too (re:Willam) and that had never really affected her. Bianca was different. The ginger queen’s jibes and quick wit had been captivating, encompassing, even if it was occasionally directed at her. Her brusque nature, her impersonality, all of that left her wanting. And then, when she let her guard down, she was so raw, and kind, and real.

It was that sensitive Bianca that set her over the edge, that left a warmth in her chest that she tried to dismiss at first as heartburn. That was unrealistic when a palm met her kneecap gently, and she felt her heart pounding hard in her ribcage. From that instance, she shunned herself for the mistake she was making. To become invested in the woman would be a major risk emotionally. The heart wants what it wants, though.

And apparently what the heart wanted, after several daiquiris, was to get laid. Drunk sex was not equatable to love, but in the off chance it would fill that void, she pressed for it. Flirting, clinging to her side, lavishing compliments and tender touches and scratches of her nails down the tanned skin of her arms, Courtney did all she could to pull the older queen. In deeper to the night, head spinning from vodka and heart racing from the attention, Bianca gave in quite willingly.

Intoxicated love was sloppy, messy, slightly uncomfortable but immensely passionate. Evidently, it was also exhausting, as after a fuzzy phase of a blackout, Courtney noticed that the woman had fallen asleep. After her own brief rest, she awoke to her sobering mind’s predicament.

Approaching 4am, and though she was exhausted, her mind was too busy to allow for sleep. The arm around her shoulders made her stay, because it made her feel wanted. Even though it was tossed over her so casually, it alluded to being held, to being kept close. Almost every intimacy she’d longed for with Bianca, she had now, in this room. Pressing her thighs together, she shuddered in memory of the rough touches her skin sustained, and the passionate mouth that had been between her legs.

From where she lay, her ear pressed flush against the bare skin of her chest, she could hear the rhythmic thump of her heart, and the raspy sound of her breathing. As her long nails danced over the skin of her stomach, she could hear that breath hitching, and she felt the vibration of the groan that left the sleeping woman. Perhaps she was being overly negative, but she found herself painfully aware that this was probably the only time she would have things this way.

When the sun rose and the birds began to sing, everything would go back to the way it was before. Bianca would have no second thoughts about this night, she would carry on with her life, making clothes, doing shows, enjoying herself. To her, this night was meaningless, nothing more than a drunk fuck with a friend that she’d probably use as a joke or an insult against the Australian. Bianca would not remember the warmth of the body beside her, she would not remember the loving caress of a hand over the sweat dampened skin of her stomach. Even if it crossed her mind, it would only be as a passing thought.

Getting hung up on this wasn’t worth it. If she could have, if she wasn’t a coward, Courtney would have told her how she felt. It would have been semi-risk free, because if it didn’t end well, they both had reasonably busy schedules and wouldn’t be forced to see each other. They could allow the time to heal the wounds and then meet up at another venue with drinks and loose inhibitions, leaving it all behind. Dwelling on that briefly, she realised that she could tell her in the morning. When they were both sober, when Bianca was dulled down by the hangover and unable to exercise her quick wit, she would tell her how she felt.

But when the morning came, Courtney woke up alone. A crumpled silhouette on the sheets and a lipstick stained glass were the only evidence that somebody else had been here. There was no item left behind, no note, no sentimentality. The bruises on her thighs were the closest thing to a loving memoir of the night before. When a text alert screamed through the dead air of the bedroom, she almost scrambled to read it.

We have been trying to contact you RE your PPI claim. We are now aware of how much you are due. Reply POST for your pack or End to OptOut.

And with that, her phone was on the floor and her teary face in the pillow.


End file.
